


failure/defeat

by ivelostmyspectacles



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Bad Ending, Episode Ignis DLC, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Starscourge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-21 10:16:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/ivelostmyspectacles
Summary: he infects him with the starscourge





	1. failure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sutera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sutera/gifts).



> tw non-con kissing, brief suicidal thoughts, basically a lot of grossness that is not cute or comfortable. heed the tags and summary!

Noct had to be safe.

It was the first, and he expected the last, thing that he thought of as the remaining power of the ring burned through his veins. It was _agony._ It was nothing compared to the thought that he was here, alone, and that he had failed in the one job that he had held for his entire life: protecting Noct. Because not only had Ignis failed to stop Ardyn, he had watched an older Noctis– _King Noctis–_ die on the throne. He would never be able to stop it, and no one else would know.

That… that alone propelled his head up off the ground, teeth clenched together through the pain. His skin was burning. His body was breaking. Noct was _going to die–_

He had nothing left to give. He would give it anyway.

“You just don’t know when to die, do you!” Ardyn was still there, then. “The Hand of the King… clinging to life. So _stubborn!_ So loyal…” He clicked his tongue, and Ignis cringed as the Chancellor appeared in his range of vision. Flashes of pinks and purples and armiger and oblivion before his eyes. _He_ was dying, too. “And look where it’s gotten you!” Ardyn continued, catching a hand into Ignis’s hair and pulling him upright by it.

He went, with a whine he could barely stop from turning to something more. He wanted to scream. He was certain there were already tears and he _hated_ it, but he was _dying_ and Noct was _going_ to die and he desperately wished he was here while simultaneously glad that he _wasn’t_.

The noise came out as a sob this time, grief and blood staining his lips.

“Your lifetime of servitude has gotten you killed. Alone and dying– well, _I’m_ here,” Ardyn said thoughtfully, “but then, I’ve never really counted, have I? Right under your noses the whole time… and then _this.”_ Ardyn’s hand caught at Ignis’s, fingertips sweeping over the ring on his finger. Ignis jerked his hand back, curling it into a fist. “The Ring of the Lucii… old gods, old kings, they never really want to _help out_ , do they?”

Gods, _Gods–_ he had never hurt so badly in his lifetime.

“All of this ‘your future is not our concern’ nonsense. So silly! Remember all of the times that I helped you and your little prince’s retinue out? So see? I’m one of the good guys, really.”

For a wild moment, he thought death wouldn’t be as merciful as the old tales promised, if he was made to sit here and listen to Ardyn _talk._

Then the thought made him smile, hanging somewhere close to a laugh and he must have made a noise aloud because Ardyn stopped speaking for one half of a second and paused to look down at him again.

“Ignis.” He crouched down, a heavy hand settling at the nape of Ignis’s neck. His skin was crawling. Or maybe it was just the remnants of wearing the ring, or both. “Don’t give up on me _just_ yet, Ignis. It’s rude to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation. Honestly, and you’re supposed to be the cultured one. I shudder to think what kind of king Prince Noctis will make once he ascends. A pitiful example, I’m sure.”

He found it within himself to open his eyes and glare. A tiny flicker of a thing, he was certain, but Ardyn beamed as though presented with the most delightful scenario. It made him want to close his eyes again. He didn’t think he would have much choice in the matter, soon.

“ _Good_ , you’re still fighting. You truly are a blessing in disguise. A foolish one, but nonetheless.” Ardyn heaved a sigh, crouching down in front of him. One knee, and then the other, and then an arm reaching for– for the ring again. Ignis made a garbled noise and jerked back, nearly toppling himself backwards, but Ardyn caught him with the hand at his neck and grasping at his arm. “If I wanted to take it,” he said shortly, and his breath was hot against his ear. Ignis shuddered. “I would have already.”

That was true, he thought hazily. Something was prickling along his bones, deep beneath the cracks and fissures beneath his skin. He couldn’t fight any longer in this state. Whatever Ardyn wanted to do to him, he–

There was a mouth against his, hot, insistent, a tongue probing into his mouth with practised expertise– so unlike kissing Noct, where both of them had only begun to be confident in new steps in their relationship, careful touches and hesitant kisses turned to more– but this was _mastery_ , lips meeting and parting and a staying hand holding him in place.

He was so shocked that he couldn’t move, and then he was so disgusted that he couldn’t help but fight back. A weak shove, and a garbled noise as he caught a hand at Ardyn’s chest and shoved. He didn’t expect him to go, but he did, and Ignis was left struggling to breathe and ignore the revulsion coating his tongue. He was suddenly aware of his situation, even more, of things _worse_ than death. He had been _naive_. So naive–

“Oh, do relax, Ignis.” Ardyn was scrubbing the back of his hand against his mouth. “I’ve no desire for the Chosen’s sloppy seconds.”

 _Then what?!_ he wanted to scream. But he couldn’t. He had to choke back what he thought might have been a sob over the anxiety crawling beneath his skin. Gods, he should have– he should have passed out by now, at the very least. There was too much agony and the human brain was only equipped to handle so much of it. He should have died, he should have died–

 _Astrals,_ this was pain he hadn’t known before. He thought he’d had his share of it, in the months following Noctis’s attack. But that hadn’t even been his own, and it hadn’t been physical. But this was… this was something clawing at him from the inside, struggling to get out, and Ignis thought he might have whined as he squirmed. Ardyn still had a hand on his neck.

“… let go,” he managed to grind out, raising a heavy hand to swat at him again. “Now.”

A click of the tongue, but Ardyn’s hand receded. “And here I was, thinking you didn’t want to die alone! I was just doing you a _favor._ Besides,” he added, turning back to him, “you’ll want something to hold onto when the change gets worse.”

Change?

Ardyn smiled, and there was inky black trailing from his lips. Ignis made another noise of discontent, reeling back again, and then–

Change.

A _horrible_ thought–

He raised his hand to his own lips and it came away stained with black. If possible, Ardyn’s smile got ever more charming, and Ignis’s stomach dropped to his toes. The Starscourge. The Starscourge–

“What did you do?” he gasped. If he… He scrubbed at his mouth. The poison taste on his tongue wasn’t _regret._ Whatever he thought he’d felt crawling beneath his skin wasn’t a figment of his imagination. It was no wonder he wasn’t _dead_ yet. Not if Ardyn– _“What–”_ he started again, but his voice broke off.

“I was thinking, your death would usher in our dear little prince’s ascension. But then! Oh, then, I thought, what if we infected his precious advisor instead!”

“You–!”

The burst of energy came from horror, he suspected, horror and _dread_ at the thought of the infection. That was what he’d been _stalling_ for. That was what he’d _kissed_ him for. How long had he… was it just the kiss that had… oh _Six,_ he could feel it in his veins now. No doubt on the fringe of his mind that this might be a lie, a power play to cause him to overreact–

For a wild moment, Ignis thought of biting through his own tongue. Better death than _this_ , better Noct safe than brought to potential harm by an uncontrollable daemon. But self preservation was warring with him, pain sweeping up and over his body even as he thought about his own suicide and dismissed it. He was already hurting; instincts wouldn’t let him do anymore harm. Not to _himself,_ anyway–

There was something rising within. He would akin it to bloodlust except he barely knew the feeling. It was desperation of a different kind, hands curling into fists and a small whine escaping his mouth.

 _“There_ we go,” Ardyn said shortly. “It usually doesn’t take so long. Well, not when it’s _me_ doing the infecting.”

 _“Ardyn–”_ he forced out, and gasped from the implosion of utter _pain_ exploding into him. A hand braced on the ground. A body curling into itself.

“You may call me Majesty yet… Ignis.”

“No– ah–” He was burning. No. Wait. His _hand_ – the _ring–_ unsurprising that the Crystal didn’t like the taint of daemon belonging to its host– hah– the energy had leeched away as quickly as it had come and it was a challenge in itself to try to scrabble for the ring, try to get it off of himself before it burned through his body completely– but then what did it matter, a part of himself screamed in his head? He was _turning into a daemon– would_ turn into a daemon–

“No no no.” Ardyn caught his hand, fingers closing around a ring-scarred wrist. “Leave it _on._ It’s much more _interesting_.”

He’d seen Ardyn like that earlier, black goo dripping down his face. His initial reaction had been _disgust,_ with good reason. So now all he could think about, through that blackening pain, was _Noctis_ seeing him like that. Reacting in such a way that he had reacted to Ardyn. Noct seeing him like that and trying to kill him. Worse: _himself_ trying to kill _Noct._

He was making noise. He wondered if it had anything to do with the tears rolling down his cheeks, or if it was just the _screaming–_ when had he started screaming–

“Not to worry,” Ardyn was saying. “Your little transformation won’t be _immediate._ For you to turn into a full-fledged daemon still does take a little time… that being said.” Ardyn let go, and moved back, and stood up. Ignis couldn’t raise his head to follow his progress. It didn’t matter. He’d already done _the worst–_ “You should transform _just_ enough for your little prince to be completely horrified by what he sees.”

A garbled noise of protest. Followed by “– no–”

Self-preservation was _nothing_ in comparison to Noctis’s preservation, but he couldn’t seem to remember how to recall his spelldaggers back from the armiger.

“I rather think having to kill his dear advisor should put Noct right on the path that I want him on.”

 _He would never–_ he wanted to say, but the words didn’t leave the tip of his tongue.

They didn’t need to. “You’re thinking he wouldn’t, but _wouldn’t_ he? His _Shield_ wouldn’t hesitate, you’re a danger to the throne now.” His voice was dismissive. Almost hand-waving. “But then I suppose that’s why Noct is so _weak.”_

Something growled. Oh Gods it was him. Or maybe it was only in his head– no, no, there was blackness already dripping from him, the taste of toxin thick on his tongue through the miasma that was choking him.

“I can tell you one thing.” Ardyn was _still talking._ “His Majesty surely isn’t going to kiss you with _that_ mouth– oooh, but let’s find out! Here he comes now!”

Ignis’s head jerked up.

_“Ignis!”_

And then his arms, holding up his weight, buckled. He collapsed the rest of the way to the ground, drawing his arms up around his face. He didn’t… he didn’t _want–_

“Ignis!?”

“Here’s the savior of the broken now,” Ardyn said, and Ignis couldn’t swallow back the cry of agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a comm from @sutera that I've been sitting on that I'm finally posting! it was crazy fun to get to write something dark and twisted as it is, bless you kaze for your ideas <3


	2. defeat

If Noctis tried, he could remember a time when they were kids that Ignis completely lost his cool. Even back then, he’d been put together, more than any kid should have been. The downfall of being assigned to royalty, he guessed. They had been young enough to forget the whole incident, but it was one of the first and last times he had seen Iggy in agonized tears, and it wasn’t something he thought he was liable to forget even now.

Ten and eight. At the time, he’d thought it a good idea to sneak out in the middle of the night– provided Ignis came with him, of course, because Ignis always _did._ He’d taken his fair share of the blame for Noctis’s little excursions but he’d followed him anywhere. In particular the park, because it was more _fun_ at night, Noct had always claimed. Ignis had always fretted, but had always gotten them back safely.

Until the time he’d fallen from the jungle gym after trying to help Noct down. It had been _stupid._ He’d climbed up too high and then got freaked out; Ignis to the rescue except _not_ , because he’d slipped and gone crashing to the ground with a _thump!_ and a cry of alarm from both of them. Noct had found it in himself to get down himself after that, when Iggy hadn’t immediately said he was fine. And at first glance, yeah, he’d been fine. Until they’d both noticed the angle of his leg, all _wrong._ Ignis had been quiet as he’d stared, probably initially in shock, and then he had burst into tears. The very first time Noct had seen him in fear and agony and it had rattled him badly enough to remember it even today.

Comparable to now, except not.

Back then, it had been dialing emergency on Ignis’s shiny new cell phone– presented to him only for emergencies and if that hadn’t been one, Noct wouldn’t have known of _anything_  worse– and Regis, Clarus, Cor, and Mr Scientia all showing up, frantic and angry. It had been Noct with tears staining his own cheeks holding onto Iggy, who’d buried his face in Noctis’s shirt and continued to sob. It had been terrifying.

Now it was just as much so, and _worse,_ because the noises that a ten year old made in pain from a broken bone was… _nothing_ in comparison to the noises a twenty-two year old Ignis made in the throes of… of…

“You’re just in time for the show, your Highness!” Ardyn boasted. “Oh, but I guess it’s _Majesty_ now, isn’t it?” He swept into a long and low bow.

Noct wanted nothing more than to glare at him, demand what he’d done or… _anything_ , but all he could see was _Ignis_ , Ignis on the ground, clutching at his head and making _noise_ and in _tears_ and wearing the… wearing the ring… the ring.

He started forward, and Ardyn was suddenly there, a blade at his throat from a flash of magenta that didn’t register in his mind. He was eight years old, Ignis was in _pain_ , and he had to _help him–_

“Ah ah. Let him change for awhile longer yet, Noct. You’re going to ruin the fun.”

He made some noise he didn’t hear, couldn’t hear over the white noise rushing in his ears. Ignis, burned and scarred. Ignis, in tears. Ignis, black oozing from his eyes and the corners of his mouth. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, the rational part of himself made Noct summon up his own blade, drag his eyes away from Ignis, and face Ardyn. “What did you _do.”_

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was–

“Ignis!”

“Iggy?!”

“Hey!”

Two more distinct flashes, and weapons poised at either of Gladio and Prompto. _Armiger,_ Noct realized with a start, but whatever shock may had come was lost beneath the waves of emotion coursing through him. He’d never really understood your whole world revolving around one person, never understood how Ignis could be that kind of loyal to him and think of him that way, but his eyes were trained on Ignis now, and he couldn’t look away. _He couldn’t look away._

“What the hell did you do?!” Gladio demanded.

“Oh, I just gave your friend a little taste of my own medication. Or, well, a little taste of _me_ , anyway.” Eyes trained on Noctis. “I can see why you like him. He must be spectacular with his lips wrapped around your royal cock, Majesty.”

Ignis made a garbled noise– _scream–_ behind him, and Noctis’s fingers seized tight on the weapon in his hand. He brought it up and batted away at Ardyn’s. Easily deflected. He tried again, taking the noises and the indignation and the _horror_ and fueling it to _anger–_

He thought Ignis was trying to say his name, and there was fire and ice in his veins simultaneously. The fire was rage, white hot and seething, throwing all of his weight into attack after attack against Ardyn– easily deflected, a rookie’s mistake. _Adversaries will always use your anger to their advantage._ He could hear the lesson in Cor’s voice, clear as crystal, but it didn’t _matter_. If he didn’t tap into the fire, then the ice would surely freeze him in place and he couldn’t _afford that_. _Ignis_ couldn’t afford that.

“Really, is this the best you can do?”

Vaguely, he was aware that Gladio and Prompto were fighting at his side, each of them trying to break past Ardyn’s defenses to get to Ignis.

“I expected _more_ out of the Chosen King! He can’t even get near to give his trusted advisor a helping hand!”

“– Noct, _run!”_

If Ignis crying on the playground in the middle of the night, still in their pajamas and the wind whipping their hair, had stayed with him this long, Noct was never going to forget _that_ sound that tore from Ignis’s throat as he ordered him _to leave him behind._

Not a _chance._

Ignis would never leave him behind. Ignis had done all of this for _him–_ _he_ was the prince, not Ignis, this should have been _his_ burden to bear–

“Noct, maybe you should–”

“No!” He cut off Gladio before he could start. “I’m not _leaving him–!”_

“All of this means nothing if you die here!”

“No one is going to die here, alright?! _No one–”_

Magic sent them flying, all three of them; he landed hand and went rolling, stopped only by a pair of legs that stopped next to him. A metal gauntlet caught his arm and hauled him up, mismatched eyes glaring down at him.

“He would risk all for you,” Ravus hissed, settling Noct on his feet. “He _has_ risked all for you. Go, now.”

“I’m not _leaving!”_ he retorted, jerking away from him. “I have to–”

 _“Foolish_ boy!” Ravus hissed, drawing his blade. He took a step in front of Noctis and faced Ardyn. “Idiocy must run in the blood.”

“Idiocy or loyalty?” It came out sharper than he intended, but Ravus didn’t deter him this time.

“Oh, Ravus! I was wondering how these boys ended up here!” Ardyn said. “Fraternizing with the enemy.” He clicked his tongue. “The selfsame Lucians who abandoned your kingdom!”

Ravus lunged forward. But Noctis ducked off to the side, seizing the opportunity to flee across the expanse of space between himself and Ignis. Forget Ardyn. Forget the fight– forget _everything else_ –

“Ignis!” He collapsed next to him, reaching out a hand to settle on his back. The muscles there were tight and tense, convulsing beneath his skin. Noct swallowed and pushed on, reaching down to catch ahold of his hand. “Ignis, listen to me–”

“Noct– _no–”_

“No, don’t be _stupid,_ I’m not leaving you.” He finally got his fingertips, numb and aching, around the ring. He wrenched the thing off, wanting to throw it, wanting to _get rid of it, shirk his duty, ignore his destiny,_ but… he couldn’t. Not now, not ever, and especially not after Ignis had done… _this._

He curled it into his palm briefly, and then shoved it into his pocket instead.

Ignis dropped back to the ground again; Noctis caught him around the shoulders and hauled his head into his lap. “Hey. _Hey!”_ He smoothed his hair out of his face. “Tell me what to do. _Ignis._ Tell me what I can do.”

“No… Noct–”

“Don’t tell me _no,_ tell me what to do! What can I– _how_ did I let this _happen–”_

“You… didn’t,” Ignis ground out. His hands seized around Noctis’s jacket and he realized with a start that there were _claws,_ now. God how did he reverse this. Any knowledge that he might have had about this had _fled_ in the face of Ignis _hanging onto him_ like that, of Ignis making noises like that, of him _turning–_

“… you need… to _go_ ,” he continued painfully. “I can’t–”

“You can and you will,” Noct interrupted, curling over him. “Please…”

“There’s nothing you can do!” he snapped, and Noctis flinched. “Just– ah– uhh–––”  

“Ignis!”

_“Go–”_

“I _can’t–”_

 _“Shit,_ Ignis.” Gladio dropped to his knees next to them, and Prompto was close behind.

“Iggy!”

Ravus and Ardyn must have still been fighting. Noct didn’t look back to see. He didn’t care, he didn’t _care–_

“Take him and _go–!”_ Ignis snapped, and then broke off with a whimper, a whine he was clearly trying to hold back from turning into a _scream._

Noctis caught his face between his hands and held on. The daemonic discharge was strangely cold beneath his fingers.”No. No, we’ll… the Crystal, I know the Ring was hurting you, maybe, but if I take you to the Crystal–”

“No…”

“I’ll make sure they– they can do something–”

Ignis was scrabbling for purchase at his jacket, his clothes. Trying to grab ahold of his arm and mumbling something that Noctis couldn’t make out. Talking about the Crystal only seemed to make him more _frantic_ , and probably because the old gods didn’t _like_ daemon infestation but they _had_ to fix him if Noct said, right…?

“Come on. While Ravus has him held off– Gladio–”

“… right,” Gladio murmured.

 _“No…!”_ Ignis rasped. “Leave me–”

“I’ll never leave you,” Noct interrupted, fiercely protective and _terrified._ “I’ll _never_ leave you.” And he leaned in to kiss him.

He didn’t make it that far, a hand at his shoulder pulling him back before he could; both he and Ignis made varying noises of distress.

“No, Ardyn, h–he said…” Prompto dropped his hand, gesturing vaguely at the manifestation of the scourge on Ignis.

“… he turned him by kissing him,” Gladio said. “Give him here,” he continued briskly. “Wipe that shit off your hands and give him here, I’ve got him.”

Right. That was how… how he’d infected him, he thought with a wave of rage. Were they all at risk now, too? It didn’t matter. It _didn’t._ He would get them to the Crystal, and everything would be _fine–_

Brazenly, he pressed a kiss into Ignis’s hair, reckless, and let Gladio lift him up from the ground.

“We’ve got you, Ignis. Just hang on.”

It sounded like he was mumbling a steady stream of words that sounded like _no_ , over and over again, but between the pain and the transformation, Noctis wondered if he even knew what he was saying anymore.

But he still responded with placating nonsense, and a few, desperate _I love you_ s as he dogged Gladio and Prompto’s footsteps out. He wasn’t certain if Ignis heard him at all.

The Crystal was their last hope, now moreso than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and you know trying to cure the scourge with the crystal _ain't_ gonna go well. and iggy knows what gonna happen to noct at the crystal too w e l p
> 
> special thanks again to @sutera for such an... _intriguing_ prompt ;)


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